Moments Like This
by RaeRae-Chii
Summary: Sometimes when they're alone, being alive and together is good enough. Because they both know they're in it for the long haul. Just some fluffy Clintasha.


**Moments Like This**

Clint's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't help himself. They'd just gotten back from some tiny country in Europe, having a conference with the head of something or other for some discussion about blah blah blah Avengers publicity stuff blah blah. (Clint hadn't paid any attention.) They hadn't expected a job to be waiting for them as soon as their plane landed, however. They'd had great cover and it had seemed easy, so they went along with it.

They hadn't expected it to be so wearing. Clint had been able to nap on the plane on the way back, but Natasha was always uneasy on planes. It didn't matter if they were private or commercial, if they weren't equipped with guns, she was completely uncomfortable. And the whole ordeal had been more exhausting for her to begin with. She'd been in the shower as soon as they reached the building. Clint unpacked for both of them while he waited for his turn. As soon as Nat was out, he left her to get ready and take a shower himself.

It was in coming back from the bathroom that Clint found himself frozen in place, trying to remember how to breathe. Natasha was sprawled out on her front on the bed, moonlight catching on her naked form and highlighting her gentle curves, turning her fiery hair into some mysterious, magical fluid substance. She was beautiful, too much so for words. It was nothing Clint hadn't seen before, less intimately so when he'd been treating her wounds or the times she took a bath in the shabby craphole hotels they'd shared over the years. This time was different, though.

Perhaps the most breathtaking thing for him was the expression on her face. In her sleep, she looked so utterly serene. No nightmares. Clint could probably name all the times he'd seen his partner look at peace, they were so few and so memorable. He'd stayed up some nights just watching her toss and turn. He knew what she dreamt about, because he had the same nightmares. She was always tense in waking hours, prepared for an attack around every corner, or for something to cause the ghosts of her past jobs to sneak up on her.

But in that moment, for whatever reason, she was at ease and Clint wasn't worrying. He silently sent a prayer to he didn't even know what. Just oh thank god, thank the universe, thank f-ing Buddha, he didn't care. Natasha was calm... She might even be happy.

"Clint..."

The archer nearly jumped to the ceiling when his thoughts were interrupted. He took a few steps closer until he was at the side of the bed and leaned down so he was level with Natasha's sleeping face. With a feather light touch, he moved a strand of hair from her cheek.

"Tasha...?" he whispered softly.

No response. She was still sleeping. Damn, she could even sneak up on him when she was asleep. His smiled appeared as soon as hers flicked across her face. Naturally silent, brought about by years of training, Clint snuck over to his dresser, carefully opening a drawer and quickly finding what he was looking for. He picked out a worn purple t-shirt of his with an extremely faded lighthouse against the stars printed on it. He knew it was her favourite shirt... Though not on him. He smiled again, recalling some of the times he'd seen her wearing it. He glided back to the bed and gently paced it over Natasha's back before turning to leave her be and go sleep on the couch instead.

He was stopped by the faint rustle of cloth, ready to bolt if the deadly assassin decided to throw anything.

"Clint..."

He turned around slowly, guilty. He opened his mouth to apologise and closed it just as quickly when he saw her smile accompanied by that gentle gaze from behind long lashes. She'd slipped into his shirt, which was now draping over her smaller frame, like a quick-change master.

"Hey," he whispered.

With a yawn, Natasha held out her arms in his direction like a child asking to be picked up. She made grabbing motions with her hands, beckoning him towards her. Clint chuckled and walked back to the bed, right into Natasha's arms. He held her in an embrace and kissed her forehead before flopping down on the bed, pulling her with him. She giggled before pulling the shirt of Clint's that she was wearing over her nose and taking a deep breath in.

Clint pulled her closer and she buried her face in his chest and flopped one arm over his side in response. He ran one hand through her matted orange locks, sighing contentedly against her forehead.

"You're beautiful," he whispered before he could stop it.

Natasha grabbed a handful of his shirt to press her face into, cheeks turning slightly pink, before responding quietly, "I love you."

"I love you too."

"That's dangerous."

"You're worth it."

"If you tell anyone about tonight, I'll kill you."

Clint snorted in amusement, acknowledging the truth behind the master assassin's lighthearted threat. He placed a gentle kiss against her nose.

"Go back to sleep."


End file.
